I stopped at a gas station on al-Qassem Street to put air in a tire, then I turned right on to ‘Abd a-Nasser Street. After I had driven about three meters on the street, I saw soldiers standing outside the al-Faruna building. There’s always an army lookout on top of that building. At that point, I was about 30 meters away from the soldiers. There must have been about 15 soldiers and two jeeps parked on the side of the road.
I kept going. When I was about 20 meters from them, I saw two soldiers pointing their guns at me. One of the soldiers signaled me to turn right and I turned into a small street, actually a dirt road. I was driving very slowly, maybe 20 kilometers per hour. The car is automatic and doesn’t drive well on sand. As soon as I turned, the soldiers began shooting. They didn’t tell me to stop and I think they fired straight at us, not in the air, because as soon as they started shooting, I heard the glass of the rear window shatter. There was a tremendous amount of shooting.
I told everyone to lie down. I wanted to stop but the shooting increased so I kept going. I saw in the mirror that soldiers were running after us and shooting. They were maybe four meters behind me when they started shooting. My wife and her sister screamed. I saw that Na’im was thrown onto his mother and I knew he was in bad shape. He was losing a lot of blood and he was unconscious. I kept going and after a time I didn’t see any more soldiers.
We transferred Na’im, with my father and my wife, to another car to take him to the hospital. We were afraid that my car would be stopped. I went home. Later that day, the police came to investigate me.
We buried Na’im last night.
In Khan Yunis, the Gaza Strip, on 24 July 1992
The testimony of Kamal Abu Amneh, 24, a married father of two, Na’im’s father
The testimony was given to Yuval Ginbar and Suha ‘Arraf on 27 July 1992
On Friday, 24 July 1992, I got back from work at about 12:30 P.M. My son Fadi, 2, was sick and I wanted to take him to hospital in Khan Yunis. We drove in my car, a burgundy Peugeot 404, that I had bought three days earlier. I drove and my father, Na’im, sat in the passenger seat beside me. In the back were my son Na’im. My wife Asmahan was sitting in the middle and her sister Sahar was sitting on the right side with Fadi on her lap.
Someone from the Israeli army called the mukhtar in our area and ordered him not to bury Na’im because they wanted the body, and said we should hand it over to the army. Relatives arrived, took Na’im’s body and buried it, but that day the army took the body. My husband fled the house because he was afraid the army would arrest him, and the army said it would return the body only if he turned himself in.
A week later, my husband and I turned ourselves in. We were interrogated for hours. When I went in, I saw my son’s body lying on a bed. I hurried over him to see him and hold him, but a soldier who was there wouldn’t let me and told me I could only see him after the interrogation. When I was done, I went out quickly so I’d have a chance to see him, but he wasn’t there.
Later, they gave us back our son’s body. I learned that until then, it had been held at a forensic center in Israel. When they gave him back, the body looked strange, full of stitches, and it felt like the body was full of cotton wool. I was in total shock. I couldn’t bear it. He was a little boy! What did he do to the Israeli army to make them kill him and disfigure his body in such an ugly, despicable way? The sight is etched in my mind’s eye and I can’t forget it.
Na’im was small but had a strong personality and was not afraid of anything. He always told me he was strong. On the day he was martyred, he asked me to cook him a dish he particularly liked. If he were alive today, he would surely be married with children.
For five years I was in heavy mourning. I cried day and night over Na’im’s death. To this day, my husband and I wear black in mourning and grief over his death. It never occurred to me that I would have to live without him, he was my first joy. When he was killed, my heart shut down and everything became dark. I felt that I had lost what was dearest to me.
Since Na’im’s death, I have not worn makeup and have not gone on a trip or a vacation. Even at the weddings of my daughters and my son Fadi, I did not feel joy. I couldn’t really be happy without Na’im. Even on holidays, I can’t really be happy without him.
After Na’im’s death, human rights organizations filed a claim on our behalf and we received compensation of approximately 18,000 shekels. But all the money in the world can’t make up for losing my son. I’d like the army that killed him to be held accountable.
It’s been 27 years. We all pray for Na’im’s soul and hope that he has received the mercy of God. For 27 years he has not disappeared from my thoughts for a moment. His brothers and sisters, who did not know him, also pray for him and everyone says, I wish Na’im were here with us.
Asmahan Abu Amneh, Na’im’s mother, 53 and a mother of ten, spoke with B’Tselem field researcher Olfat al-Kurd this year and described life since her son was killed:
My eldest son, Na’im, fell as a martyr 27 years ago, on 24 July 1992. That day, we were driving in the car when suddenly the Israeli army opened massive gunfire at us. Na’im was hit by the gunfire. I didn’t understand what was happening. I only saw Na’im bleeding and his clothes full of bullet holes. Friends took us to Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis. He started convulsing on the way there. When we got there, they immediately transferred him to a-Shifaa hospital in Gaza because of his condition, but he died on the way, so they returned him to Nasser Hospital. I screamed and cried. I lay down on my son and held him tight and didn’t want to say goodbye to him. Then we brought him home.
On 24 July 1992, a report was received in the Gaza area about a Palestinian car, a burgundy Peugeot 404, which was suspected to have been from the West Bank. In it were armed locals who were firing in the air and at houses and soldiers. Consequently, large forces were dispatched to capture the vehicle and its passengers. Among other things, an IDF roadblock was set up at the Jalal intersection.
During the operation, soldiers spotted a car matching the description at the intersection. The soldiers called out to the driver to stop in Hebrew and Arabic, and signaled with their hands to stop. The vehicle slowed almost to a stop and then suddenly accelerated and turned right very fast. The soldiers pursued the car and called out to the driver to stop. Then they fired in the air and at the wheels of the vehicle. As a result of the shooting, the child Na’im Ramel Abu Amneh, who was in the vehicle, was hit.
According to MAG Corps’ conclusions, the soldiers acted properly and in accordance with the general open-fire regulations in view of the information they had been given, as stated above, the match between the vehicle in which the deceased was traveling and the description provided to the soldiers, the suspicious movements of the passenger next to the driver, and especially the fact that the vehicle accelerated prior to the soldiers’ calls to stop – all these were enough to create reasonable suspicion among the soldiers that the passengers had committed a dangerous crime, namely illegal shooting. Therefore, the decision is not to take legal action against the shooters, particularly as it cannot be determined with certainty which one of them hit the deceased.
However, the MPIU investigation found that the shooting soldiers had not been briefed on more stringent open-fire regulations applied in the area at the time, which included restrictions on the use of the suspect apprehension procedure at checkpoints. Due to this failure, the MAG recommended that four officers, ranking captain to colonel, be reprimanded.
Letter to B’Tselem dated 20 January 1994, from Captain Avital Margalit, Head of Public Diplomacy, the IDF Spokesperson’s Unit